Holby High
by dr-keogh
Summary: The adventures of teenage Dylan and Lofty at boarding school.
1. Chapter 1

**So I uploaded this first chapter to tumblr a while ago, and the rest of this story has been slowly simmering on the backburner since then. This won't be a regularly updated fic, just something I'll throw out there every now and again. I hope you all enjoy!**

 **Both Ben and Dylan are 16, in year 11. Zoe is 17, in year 13.**

Benjamin Chiltern is alone.

Not just alone in the sense that there is nobody there with him, though that was also true, but alone in the way that his life had become so solitary, so confined that he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper conversation with somebody.

That was boarding school for him, he supposed.

Trying to keep his head down, Ben trudges towards his science class. His shoelaces are untied, owing to the way his hands had absolutely refused to tie them in the morning. That happened a lot. Dyspraxia, his student manager had told him, before promptly deciding she didn't care enough to provide him with any additional help.

Ben arrives at his classroom, annoyed to find he's early. He hates being early, because he never has anyone to talk to. Not only that, but it also gave the other boys in his class ample time to come up with insults to fling at him.

"Oi, Lofty," a voice calls from a few metres in front of him. Here we go, Ben thinks. "Nice bruise."

Lofty freezes, and then blushes. At this stage, he has a variety of bruises, mostly from his general clumsiness, but he knows exactly which one the bully is talking about. On Ben's pale neck sits a small reddish-purple bruise, just about peeking above his collar.

"That from your boyfriend?" the bully croons, earning the laughter of the others lingering outside his classroom.

In reality, the bruise is much more innocent; Ben had been leaning his head on his hand while doing homework, when he'd almost nodded off and slipped, the pen he'd been holding stabbing him in the rather unfortunate place.

They'd got the boyfriend thing a few months ago, when Ben had (stupidly, idiotically) left his phone out in the common area. It was locked, but the messages coming through had shown their previews on the screen, and it didn't exactly take Einstein to work out that 'Jack 3 3' was more to Ben than just a friend. They broke up two weeks later, but the bullying persisted, and intensified. Being gay in an all-boys boarding school was about the worst hand he could have been dealt.

"You deaf and stupid now too, Lofty?" the boy crows. Lofty explodes.

"Don't call me that!" he yells, dropping his bag off his back and starting towards the other boy, rage blinding him to the fact that it's the science corridor, and there's prefects practically everywhere.

"Hey!" an authoritative tone carries across the laughter and baying from the crowd who have gathered in hope of a fight. "Calm down!"

Two forceful hands grab Ben, pulling him away from the bully and dragging him down the corridor, away from the his science classroom and the teacher who has appeared and begun watching him with pity. Really, Ben should be thankful for being dragged away because he doesn't stand a chance in a fight, but he's just so sick of being picked on day-in day-out.

"What's your name?" the prefect who'd dragged him away asks, but Ben doesn't answer. He can't afford to get excluded for violent behaviour, not now, not when his GCSEs are so close.

The bell goes, and everyone waiting for their first lesson begins filtering into their respective classrooms. Sensing an opportunity, Ben turns and sprints away, pushing through the crowd, choking back tears. You're sixteen, a voice in his head sneers, get over yourself, but Ben can't seem to stop the lump that forms in his throat.

He reaches the end of the corridor and flings the doors open, starting to run up the stairs, two steps at a time. Second stupid decision of the day, he'd recall later, as he misses a step and slips, sending himself crashing down and hitting his chin in the process.

"Are you okay?" he hears from above him. He rolls over onto his back and sits up, coming face-to-face with an extended palm. But when he sees who it is, he blushes further, wishing the ground will open up and swallow him whole.

Dylan Keogh stands above him, his palm still extended despite Ben's now awkwardly long silence. He raises an eyebrow at the boy on the floor, clearly expecting him to take the hand, but Ben ignores it, using his own grazed palms to push himself off the ground.

"Ben, isn't it? What happened? You should be in science, shouldn't you?" Dylan questions with a frown. "Oh, your laces are undone."

"Actually, I-" Ben starts, before making another split-second decision and bolting up the stairs, this time successfully, before flinging himself through another set of doors and down the long, darkened corridor behind them.

A chipped plaque on the wall declares the corridor to be '14A - Social Studies', but since two years ago, this department has been empty as social studies was moved to a new building nearer to the Darwin and Keller residential blocks. Ben knows this particular corridor like the back of his hand by now, however, and the only thing that interests him is the very end.

He skids to a stop, barely avoiding colliding with the old storage trolley he'd placed there to replace the ladder that had been previously removed when the school finished moving old desks and chairs up into the loft.

The loft. Ben lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of his usual hiding spot. When he gets particularly upset, or tired, or just needs some space to himself, this is where he will come. He's come dangerously close to falling out on more than one occasion, but so far that fate has eluded him, which never ceases to amaze him, given his penchant for… falling.

He kicks off his shoes, knowing the worn soles won't grip anything well enough to give him a chance at getting up safely. He starts by sitting on the storage cabinet before he swings his legs up and standing tentatively, taking extra care to watch his balance. Then, with practiced ease, he steps onto his own well-placed pile of old exercise books before reaching up and managing to pull himself safely into the loft. The one advantage of being this tall and gangly, he thinks wryly.

Sat alone in the dark, he has time to think, and the previous tears spring back to his eyes. Pathetic, he thinks, scrubbing at his eyes with the thready sleeve of his awful maroon jumper.

He hates it here. Really, truly hates it. It had been tolerable for the first four and a half years, when he'd had friends, but the bullying had alienated him from the rest of his year group, making year 11 living hell. The others around him had all grown to be strong and athletic or intelligent and academic young men, when Ben had just grown up to be the loneliest person in the world, probably.

Everybody knew of him. They whispered warnings to each other in the common room, year nines telling year eights to watch out for the fag, year elevens tutting over such a waste of potential. His parents must be so disappointed.

Ben can't stop the tears now, bringing his knees to his chest and making himself as small as possible. He feels like a little year seven who's managed to get lost, except Ben is lost in an entirely different way.

A door swinging open below him snaps Ben back into reality with a thud. Panic shoots through his chest as he thinks, oh shit. If a teacher finds him, he's definitely going to be excluded, or worse. He bites down on the side of his thumb, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to snuffle the little gasping sobs still escaping him.

"Ben," a voice calls, startling him. Ben stops, completely stone-still. He knows that voice.

"Ben, I know you're up there. Your shoes have your name in them."

Fuck, Ben wants to curse. He lets out a small breath that catches on the way out and sounds too much like a sob for Dylan to decide to leave.

"Go away," he mumbles miserably, knowing there's no point in pretending anymore.

"I'm not leaving you on your own," Dylan speaks with an uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice. Ben has never had the chance to actually speak with the boy before, but the impression he gave off was always one of stone-cold aloofness, so much so that Ben's year ten crush on the boy had disappeared almost entirely as soon as he'd observed him speaking to his peers.

He hears Dylan sigh, followed by some rustling sounds. Then, without warning, Dylan's head appears in the opening of the loft.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Be my guest," Ben mutters, shifting away to give Dylan plenty of room to pull himself in.

Dylan pulls himself rather unceremoniously upwards, swinging his legs inelegantly round and scrabbling indignantly at the floor of the loft to find purchase. Without thinking, Ben shuffles forwards and takes Dylan's forearms, pulling him to safety.

"Thank you," Dylan says, nodding to indicate that Ben can let go, which he does with a blush. "Are you okay?"

Ben looks down, picking nervously at the threads showing at the end of his blazer. He needs a new one, really, but his parents won't pay, not when he only has a few months left at this school.

Dylan, realizing he's clearly not going to get a response to that question, tries a new one. "So, this is where the nickname comes from," he muses, referencing the other boys' habit of calling him Lofty.

"It's not a nickname," he corrects, looking up. "They found me hiding in here after, I think it was, what, seven hours? They thought it was hilarious."

"Oh," is all Dylan says, and Ben is glad he doesn't question why he was here for seven hours. "So why were you running today?"

Ben doesn't want to mention the bruise, or the reason the others found it so funny, seeing as Dylan is the first person to treat him like a human in three months, so he shrugs noncommittally. "The others don't like me, which is fine, but, yeah. It just gets tiring sometimes."

Dylan tuts. "You shouldn't have to put up with them."

"I know," Ben says, because he knows he should report the bullies, but what's the point? It's him against the rest of his year. With nobody in his corner, he doesn't stand a chance.

"No, really," Dylan says with more insistence. "It isn't fair."

Ben has to wonder, really, why Dylan is so insistent on the matter. Someone as smart, confident and attractive as him.

Stop, Ben thinks, mentally berating himself. He doesn't want to lose Dylan now they've started talking, and he's not going to let the return of some stupid crush ruin his chances at an actual friend.

"I've seen you go from being an enthusiastic, compassionate person to someone who barely looks up from the ground more than twice a day. You've retreated into yourself and it's painful to watch," Dylan says suddenly.

Ben doesn't respond, his mind whirring. Dylan Keogh has been watching him. Dylan has been paying attention to him. And, most of all, he seems to care.

"When we were in year nine, we had English together, remember?" Dylan recalls. "You were always so happy and infuriatingly friendly. You shouldn't let these boys get to you like this- they've taken away the very thing that makes you who you are."

Ben shakes his head. "It's not that simple," he counters, because if Dylan knew why they've all decided to pick on him, he'd probably retreat like the rest of them.

"It is," Dylan says adamantly. "I know we don't share any classes, but I'll keep an eye out. If there's anything troubling you, you can talk to me, you know? I may not be the most… warm person, but I have a dorm to myself and it gets rather lonely sometimes."

"You have a dorm to yourself?" Ben asks, genuinely surprised and happy to have a reason to change the subject.

Dylan nods. "I have a dog, you see, so the school allow me a room to myself so I can keep her there without much fuss."

"A dog? At school?"

"She's a service dog," is all Dylan says.

"Oh," Ben frowns, inspecting the boy before him. He doesn't want to outright ask why he needs a service dog at school with him, but he's naturally curious.

"So yes, if your peers are being particularly maddening, feel free to drop by- I'm in K11," Dylan says, effectively ending Ben's train of thought.

"Thanks. I'll think about it, next time, when they're… you know," he says with a tiny smile, though it's one of the first genuine smiles he's done in a long time. Suddenly, the world seems a little lighter.

"Come on," Dylan says, "we'd better get down."


	2. Chapter 2

Ben shakes his head, fear showing plainly on his face. "I don't think I want to just yet."

Dylan smiles sympathetically, and Ben has to ignore the way his heart beats uncomfortably loudly in his chest. "Not to lessons. We can go to Darwin for a bit."

"Darwin is sixth form," Ben blurts, confused. Year 11s aren't allowed in, surely Dylan knows that.

"Exactly. They've got a microwave and I'm pretty sure you won't want to go to lunch so we can have something from their kitchen."

"Wait, what?" Ben shakes his head, still confused. "We can't just turn up to the sixth form residential block and expect them to hand us some food without question."

Dylan rolls his eyes. "I have a friend in upper sixth," he says by way of explanation. "Now come on. We need to go now if we're going to avoid the prefects."

The pair drop one by one out of the loft, Ben landing with surprising ease while Dylan stumbles on the cabinet and nearly falls.

"Why aren't you in lessons, anyway?" Ben asks quietly as they sneak through the corridors, wary not to draw too much attention to themselves.

"Ah-" Dylan stammers, placing his fists on his hips in the way Ben has seen him do a million times in the common room. "I'm… exempt. From certain lessons- I'm supposed to be with Mr Harding but he's off ill at the minute."

Mr Harding is the wellbeing counsellor- Ben knows this from when he'd been referred to him in year seven after they'd assumed the bruises he'd turned up with on the first day were from something far more sinister than his clumsiness. Ben finds himself intrigued, wanting to know more, but he doesn't want to pry. Instead, he just says "oh,", because that's also what he feels right now.

Arriving at Darwin, Dylan tries the door, only to find it locked. Ben deflates- unless Dylan has a key card, they will have walked all this way for nothing.

"Bugger," Dylan mutters under his breath. He pulls out his phone, sending off a quick message before stepping back, looking up to one of the windows. Ben steps back with him, bemused, and looks in the same direction as Dylan, squinting into the sunlight.

For a moment, it appears nothing is going to happen, but then a girl appears in one of the windows. Ben is slightly taken aback, having forgotten that it's only years 7 to 11 that are boys-only, and sixth form is mixed.

The girl swings the window open, leaning out. "Catch!" she yells, chucking a small square of plastic towards the ground. It lands a few metres to Ben's right, and he picks it up, turning it over in his hands.

The card reads Zoe Hanna, 13LHH, room D5. Ben feels marginally more comfortable now he can put a name to the face. He turns to Dylan, about to question what the hell is going on, but Dylan just takes the card off him, nodding up to the window, before moving forward to press the card to the detector on the wall. Ben stands back, forgetting himself.

"Ben! Come on," Dylan calls. Ben jumps, startled out his daze. He smiles sheepishly at Dylan before walking through the door.

He takes a look round as soon as he's inside. Darwin is newer than Keller because the school had only begun accepting girls into the sixth form a few years ago. Everything down to the paint on the walls is noticeably more modern, and it gives Ben a feeling of renewed freshness to be surrounded by the light colours and cool décor. There are several students in the common room they've just entered, strewn around the place with various different text books and folders. It almost feels like an entirely different place than the grubby, overcrowded common room he shares with all of year eleven. s

Dylan leads him to the kitchen, drawing his attention away from the inviting chaos of the common room. He goes straight for a cupboard to Ben's left, pulling out a bowl filled with a variety of fun sized sweets, like the ones Ben used to have on Halloween. Ben stands silent as Dylan selects a few sweets before offering him the chance to pick, baffled as Dylan manages to make it look like he owns the place. Dylan moves around the kitchen effortlessly, pulling things like crisps and fruits from various drawers and cupboards before shutting them all, making sure everything is exactly as they'd found it.

"I'm going to introduce you to Zoe," Dylan says. He must notice the immediate panic in Ben's eyes, because he goes on to say "she's a friend, and I don't have many, so I'm sure she'll be excited to meet you. And I need to give her this back," he flashes the card at Ben before taking an apple, some skittles and a bag of prawn cocktail in his arms, waiting patiently as Ben does the same.

The make their way up a set of stairs, Ben trundling behind Dylan at a distance. He's already met one new person today, and he isn't sure how he feels about meeting a second.

Dylan stops at the door declared to be D5, knocking once before trying the handle. He pushes it open slowly, carefully balancing the food in his arms.

"Zoe," he greets, sounding friendlier than Ben would have expected. Must be his girlfriend, he thinks with a sinking feeling. "This is Ben, he's in my year," he announces, stepping aside, leaving Ben to smile and nod awkwardly.

Nobody says anything for a few moments, but to Ben it feels like a lifetime. He fidgets awkwardly with his sleeves again, rocking from foot to foot, trying desperately to think of something to say.

"Take a seat, make yourself comfortable," Zoe says with a warm smile from her position sat on the edge of the bed, and Ben feels himself relax a little. He does as he's told, turning the desk chair round so it's facing the middle of the room, sitting nervously.

"Why aren't you in lessons, then, Dylan?" Zoe questions, turning to where the other boy is leaning casually on the wall, half eaten apple in hand.

"You know exactly why," Dylan huffs, placing one fist on his hip, using the other to take a large chomp out of his apple. Zoe rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "It was only maths," Dylan grumbles.

"And you, Ben? What lesson did you miss?" Zoe says inquisitively.

"Oh, um, science- chemistry. But I'm missing French now," he recalls. "I suppose I'll have to go and explain why I've been absent at break."

"Fake a stomach bug," Dylan says dismissively, waving a hand.

"Um- where are the toilets? I need the loo," Ben asks, needing a break. This is the most social interaction he's had in such a long time that his head hurts and his palms are uncomfortably sweaty.

"Down the corridor on the left," Dylan and Zoe answer in unison, like they've had to explain that many times before, and it leaves Ben with the uncomfortable impression that he isn't the first person Dylan has dragged to his cool sixth form friend's dorm just to, what, show off?

When Ben trundles back down the corridor, he can hear the conversation happening in the room.

"You like him, don't you?" Zoe's voice sounds teasing and big-sisterly. "Dylan Keogh with a crush. I never thought I'd see the day."

Ben feels his insides turn to jelly. Surely they can't be talking about him.

"Are you forgetting Sam?" Dylan's muffled voice sounds through the door. "Anyway, I only met him today, and don't even know if he is gay, or if that's just a rumour."

Ben blushes. So Dylan does know.

"I'm not going to scare him away," Dylan's voice is quieter and more serious now, something almost wistful carrying in his tone that makes Ben step back a little.

Ben realizes they're going to be suspicious if he's gone for ages, so he steps forward and raps on the door, pushing it open before stepping nervously inside.

"Ben," Zoe greets with an amused smile. Dylan nods his hello, and Ben feels himself blushing slightly like a lovesick schoolgirl.

So, Dylan is into boys as well. The knowledge buzzes around Ben's head as something new and exciting. For years he had felt like the only remotely gay boy in the entire school, and the idea that he's maybe not entirely alone lights his heart up and makes him feel brighter, happier. Perhaps it could all end well.


End file.
